


you will understand now that yours is unique in all the world

by carolee_sea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AtsuHina, M/M, Many metaphors, Pining, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, character study kind of, hell yeah, reference to The Little Prince, there was oob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22860241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolee_sea/pseuds/carolee_sea
Summary: Sakusa chokes on onigiri and Atsumu attempts CPR, despite not being certified to do it.This is how Hinata knows.Atsumu has always known.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 35
Kudos: 286





	you will understand now that yours is unique in all the world

**Author's Note:**

> as always, enjoy reading! this was a 2 day fever dream where i thought about nothing else. thoughts empty no head  
> things get progressively better, so bear with me please! 🙏

The sun is about 15 million degrees Celsius. Hinata is the sun. Hinata is a star. How does he exist. 

_What does it feel like to be a star?_

Once upon a time, under the lights of one Tokyo gymnasium and the deafening roar of the crowd, Atsumu believed himself to be a star.

Until he realized he wasn’t.

Atsumu likes to think of Bokuto as a comet, with his beautiful straights and cut shots. He likes to think of Sakusa as a black hole (it’s self explanatory). But at the end of the day, Shouyou is the light he always turns towards.

If Shouyou was the sun, Atsumu would be a sunflower. 

Atsumu faces Shouyou now. Shouyou is suspended in the air, a fiery ball of plasma and fire and energy. 

His arms stretch out and his fingers extend, like long yellow petals that curl happily at the edges. _The sun is here!_ they proclaim. His fingertips kiss the ball and his palms cradle it, whisper, _have a safe journey_ , before sending it streaking towards Shouyou’s waiting hand. 

The ball slams into the floor on the other side of the net. 

A whistle sounds. They’ve won the practice game.

Shouyou is bouncing. “That last toss was perfect!” he beams at Atsumu. 

Atsumu wonders if sunflowers ever turn away from the brightness. 

“Of course,” he replies. “They’re always perfect.”

Shouyou hums. “Well, I just thought that last one, there was a little something more to it.” 

Meian calls for them to gather around the coach. Coach doles out a few compliments, critiques, and dismisses them for the day. He tells them to meet back at the gym by four so they can board the bus and get back home on time.

“Tsum-tsum!” Bokuto pops up next to Atsumu’s shoulder as he finishes packing up. “Isn’t your brother’s shop in Sendai?”

“Yes. We’re going there right now for lunch,” Sakusa says from the corner. He’s adjusting his face mask, voice slightly muffled.

“Does he know you’re coming?” Shouyou asks. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Atsumu sighs. He saw Osamu just last week. Things are civil enough between them. “I just hope he doesn’t poison all of us with his gross rice balls.”

“The reviews say they’re good. Aren’t they good?” Bokuto shouts. 

Sakusa tells him to quiet down or his eardrums will burst.

They say their goodbyes to the college team they just played and head out.

“Ah!” Shouyou exclaims, as the four of them are about halfway to Osamu’s dastardly shop.

Bokuto peeks over to see whatever Shouyou has pulled up on his phone. “Aaaahh!”

It’s a text message from Meian.

“So... Coach says we’re staying in Sendai for a few more days?” Atsumu confirms. “Whadda hell for?”

Shouyou frowns down at his phone a little. It’s cute, different. Shouyou doesn’t frown much. “Apparently there’s a festival going on. Maybe he wants us to go to it.” Bokuto’s mouth is an O.

“Parade,” Sakusa corrects. They look at him. “Stop looking at me.” They look away quickly.

They continue walking as the April wind picks up around them.

“It’s for Hanyu Yuzuru, the figure skater who won gold at this year’s Winter Olympics,” Sakusa elaborates. Sakusa off-court is very helpful sometimes. Atsumu has learned enough about bacteria to fill two lifetimes.

Shouyou and Bokuto look positively awed. 

“I remember watching him on TV!” Bokuto crows. 

“He jumps so high!” Shouyou starts jumping up and down.

“Wait a moment.” Shouyou stops jumping. Bokuto looks contemplative, which is never a good thing.

“If Kageyama was in the Olympics too, why didn't he get a parade?” he asks.

“Because volleyball is a team sport. And Japan didn't win,” Sakusa answers. Although he doesn’t say it outright, like Atsumu would, his tone implies _duh, you moron_.

“I think we should go to the parade!” Shouyou changes the subject to relieve all of them of the embarrassment that is Bokuto off-court. Bless him.

“You lot can go. I will be staying inside the hotel. Where there are no crowds,” Sakusa declares. 

“Oh! Speaking of hotels, Coach didn’t book any for us!” Shouyou informs them. “We’ll have to do it ourselves, but Meian texted a few recs.” They groan.

“I’m hungry,” Bokuto complains. 

“Yeah whatever, we can check in at a hotel later,” Atsumu agrees dismissively.

This is Atsumu’s first mistake. 

\---

The time they visit Osamu’s shop in Sendai is when it happens. 

There is an array of onigiri spread out on the counter. The balls of rice are lined up in a long, immaculate row. Osamu explains the different types and flavours, answers questions. There is pride in his voice. Atsumu is scowling slightly.

Bokuto is shoving onigiri down his throat. Shouyou is awed by the way he barely chews before the whole thing is gulped down in three bites. Atsumu is taking small, deliberate bites out of the tuna onigiri. Shouyou asks Osamu for a recommendation. Osamu tells him to go for the salt konbu before he leaves to finish something up in the kitchen.

Things rapidly change in the next twenty minutes.

Sakusa is choking on his umeboshi onigiri, and he’s on the floor. Bokuto looks stumped for a moment, but then the yell is out of his mouth before he can swallow his rice. 

Shouyou has never been a very jealous person. However many times the ball had gone to Asahi or Tanaka instead of him, he never allowed it to get to him. Whatever toss he got, he would receive with a wide smile and an open palm. Back then, it was _do whatever is needed to win_. And that sometimes meant the ball wouldn’t come to him. He accepted it.

Osamu’s still in the kitchen. Atusumu has suddenly fallen on top of Sakusa. The moment spreads in slow motion, like CGI proteins unravelling in that biology video Shouyou saw in high school. Atsumu’s hair shifts over his face like a curtain of golden rye (he hasn’t gelled it today). Sakusa is unmoving on the floor. 

Atsumu’s lips are on Sakusa’s. It looks like he is making out violently with a dead fish. 

Bokuto is hovering around them, still yelling. Shouyou is in shock. Osamu is still in the kitchen. He either doesn’t seem to hear the yelling, or just does not care. (Shouyou strongly suspects it’s the latter.) 

Atsumu parts from Sakusa with a large, wet gasp, eyes wild. His hands press onto Sakusa’s chest. Pushes once, twice, in a succession of quick jabs. He claims Sakusa’s mouth again. Shouyou can see his cheeks puff out and deflate. It reminds him of a frog. 

_Oh, he’s doing CPR_ , Shouyou finally realizes. 

There are two realizations. 

The second is that he doesn’t like seeing Atsumu’s mouth on Sakusa’s. The clarity unfolds, slippery and sticky fast like the wrapper off one of those popsicles Nishinoya likes so much. It’s different from the court when the ball is sent to the other spiker. They are not on the same team in the game of life. Shouyou will not let the others get any attention. No, Shouyou wants Atsumu all to himself.

Osamu has finally walked out of the kitchen. He views the scene with resignation and a dash of disdain, before his eyes widen and he starts yelling as well. 

“‘Tsumu, you idiot! You’re not CPR certified!”

Atsumu ignores him. Shouyou, observation skills honed from years of receiving on the back row, sees Sakusa’s hands twitch. Oh no, he thinks. 

Atsumu’s lips are on Sakusa’s again, shiny with spit. He’s not even trying anymore. He pushes off, expression unreadable, and immediately a look of complete and utter fear crosses his face when he sees that Sakusa’s eyes are open. 

Sakusa has not bothered to wipe the saliva off his lips. 

“What. Are you doing.”

Atsumu squeaks, he _squeaks_. The shop is silent. Hinata is thinking. Bokuto has escaped into the kitchen. Atsumu peels himself off Sakusa. Sakusa stares at the ceiling, a pained expression of acute distaste scrawled across his face. He doesn’t bother to get off the floor. Atsumu, without a word, slinks away to the kitchen. Shouyou’s eyes follow him before he turns his attention back to Sakusa on the floor.

“Don’t mind, Sakusa, you were choking on rice,” Shouyou starts, trying to diffuse the situation. “Atsumu just wanted to help.” _And Shouyou wants Atsumu_.

Osamu bites his lip, as if he’s trying to stop himself from saying something. 

“He’s not CPR certified,” Sakusa says. 

Shouyou and Osamu are thinking the same thing. _Oops, he overheard that_. 

“Well!” Osamu clears his throat, claps his hands together, and smiles. “You’re still alive!”

“But why. For what purpose,” Sakusa laments.

“To play volleyball?” Shouyou suggests.

Sakusa stares at him. 

“To educate everyone about the importance of washing hands and preventing the spread of deadly disease?” Shouyou tries again.

“I need a shower,” Sakusa says. 

“The floor’s really clean,” Osamu starts, but quickly covers up his mistake. “But yeah, you could probably shower. ‘Tsumu can take you-”

“I don’t want to see him.”

Shouyou opens his mouth to offer. Osamu cuts him off. “You haven’t eaten yet, huh, Shouyou? Bokuto can go instead then.”

Osamu goes into the kitchen to drag Bokuto out. Shouyou hurries over to Sakusa with a clean glass of water and a napkin. 

Sakusa takes the napkin. “Thank you.” He stares at Shouyou. It’s not a glare this time. He almost looks pitying.

Osamu and a quiet Bokuto come back. They wait in silence as Sakusa wipes his lips with vigour and rinses his mouth with the water.

“I want to go. Now.” 

“Okay, okay, Bokuto’s here.”

“I am,” Bokuto says.

Sakusa refuses their offers to help him get off the floor. Bokuto skitters out the door.

“Ah man. I don’t usually apologize for Tsumu, but that was hella disgusting. Sorry ‘bout that.” Osamu bows his head.

“Maybe I hated it,” Sakusa says cryptically. He’s looking directly at Shouyou, or at least Shouyou thinks so. “But I’m sure there was someone here who hated it even more.” 

He vanishes dramatically after Bokuto.

Shouyou sits down with Osamu at the counter. He spaces out at his hands in front of him, still thinking. About Atsumu’s hair like gilded grain. Russet eyes and honey voice. Osamu places an onigiri in his palms, eyebrow raised as he prompts Shouyou to eat. Shouyou eats.

“Ifs really goofd!” Shouyou manages to say, mouth full of salt kombu onigiri. 

Osamu looks amused. “Glad ya like it.”

Shouyou swallows. He swirls his tongue around the inside of his mouth to dislodge the stray rice grains from his teeth. 

“Osamu.”

“Yes?”

“Why did you decide to quit volleyball and start making onigiri?”

“Didn’t ‘Tsumu tell ya?”

“Well, I asked, but he wouldn’t give me a straight answer.”

Osamu sighs. “I guess he still doesn’t understand.”

“I didn’t want to quit.”

Shouyou couldn’t fathom this. “Then why did you?”

“I just felt that I couldn’t keep going on forever. Somewhere along the line, I wouldn’t be able to keep up with ‘Tsumu. And I wanted to quit before that. And before I got too attached.”

“Are you happy now?”

“Yes,” is the simple reply. It sounds like he means it. Osamu tilts his head up, gazing at the white ceiling. “But sometimes I wonder if I regret it. And not knowing if I do. I think about how far I could’ve gone. It hurts, letting go of something you’re passionate about. Not that volleyball was my everything, but I still miss the tournaments and smell of icy-hot and the sound of shoes on the floor.”

Shouyou thinks about not being able to experience those things. How close he came to doing so. The thought hides in the shadows.

“How does Atsumu feel?”

“Oh, he was mad,” Osamu chuckles self-deprecatingly. “I mean, I was too. Now, he hasn’t changed much. ‘Tsumu... doesn’t forgive grudges that easily.”

“But the good thing about him not changing, well, he’s waited five years to set for you.”

Shouyou’s breath hitches in his throat. He remembers the declaration in his first year at Nationals. He remembers the look on Atsumu’s face when he turned to see Shouyou, at the Black Jackals tryouts. He remembers arms reaching out to him, tender leaves and kind petals, ball arcing faster than he’s seen in three years. 

“Foxes are solitary creatures,” Osamu says absentmindedly, fiddling with the nori wrapping on the tarako. 

“Are they?” 

Shouyou has always thought Osamu looked sly. Now, however, his expression looks honest and open. Earnest.

“It’s a lonely path,” Osamu muses. “Well, now that I can’t.... Keep him company, Shouyou.”

Shouyou promises.

\---

Atsumu’s second mistake is making out with Sakusa. He can’t believe he’s done it and lived to see another hour. If Sakusa kills him (he’s sure it will be soon), Atsumu hopes that the last thing he sees is Shouyou’s face.

“Are you okay with Osamu?” Shouyou asks him as they walk down the street to the hotel where Bokuto and Sakusa have gone. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Ah, well...”

“I know you talked to him,” Atsumu says. “I mean it when I say things are alright between us.”

“Look at it this way,” he continues. “If we were both puzzle pieces, me and ‘Samu, we wouldn’ fit together anymore.” 

“Huh,” Shouyou considers his words. “Are you looking for another puzzle piece?”

“Oh no, I’ve already found one. I’m just waiting for it to fit,” Atsumu stares directly into Shouyou’s wide brown eyes. His hair is blowing in the wind like a maple leaf. The extraordinarily vivid orange ones from Eikando Temple in Kyoto. 

“You look sure that it will.” There’s a puzzled look on Shouyou’s face now, the one he gets when he’s trying to read which opponent to block.

“I’m hoping desperately,” Atsumu amends. “Cuz if it doesn’t, I will be very miserable and lonely and sad.”

“You have us,” Shouyou comforts him. “Aren’t we all part of the same puzzle?”

“Osamu is... a special puzzle piece,” Atsumu says. He thinks of teammates who whispered behind his back. Osamu who said the same things to his face and made it hurt less. “Not that our team isn’t special. They just don't fit together quite the same,” his voice drops to a murmur.

_It’s you_. It’s on the tip of his tongue, as Shouyou checks his phone again for directions. _You’re the one_. Not Osamu’s replacement, but a new piece with different edges and different curves. 

Atsumu is sure of one thing though. If it fits, it’ll stick around forever.

“We’re here!” Shouyou is pointing at a moderately sized building. The paint is faded, but the hotel itself doesn’t look too old. 

They quickly walk inside.

The lobby is crowded, and Atsumu has a sinking feeling that they won’t be getting any rooms.

“Why didn’t we book beforehand?” Atsumu groans. 

Predictably, the receptionist regretfully informs them that there is no vacancy. Luckily, a room has been reserved for them earlier by another two men who looked like athletes. Atsumu bets it was Bokuto. Bless Bokuto. He will never call Bokuto dumb ever again.

“Sweet,” he says, tossing Shouyou a set of room keys when they’re done with the whole ordeal. “Bokuto copped a room for us.” Shouyou cheers. 

They make their way upstairs. Atsumu opens the door. He walks in. At first glance, the space is spacious, bright and airy. Even Sakusa wouldn’t have an issue with the cleanliness.

The only problem-

There is only one bed. _There is only one bed._ Atsumu is okay. Atsumu is not okay.

Shouyou is placing his duffel bag against the wall. Atsumu watches him in despair.

"Atsumu? Is something wrong?"

_Wonderful, considerate Shouyou!_

"T-there's only one bed." Atsumu does not stammer.

Shouyou runs a hand through his hair. "That isn't a problem, right? The bed's pretty big, we can both fit. But if you... don't want to, I can ask the front desk if they have a futon..."

"No!" Atsumu protests immediately. He winces a little by how hard he came on. "The bed's good! It's great!" He thinks about Shouyou sleeping next to him, Shouyou's tanned skin on the sheets, Shouyou's sunset hair spilling onto the pillows. He's flustered. 

"WHAT ABOUT OUR CLOTHES! WHAT WILL WE _WEAARR_?" he screeches.

Bokuto kicks the door open. 

"WE CAN GO SHOPPING!" he suggests very loudly. 

"I'D LIKE THAT." Shouyou matches his volume.

"WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP!" Sakusa roars from the room over. His voice is absolutely terrifying when magnified. Atsumu, Shouyou, and Bokuto concede defeat.

They go shopping. Even Sakusa.

Shouyou is in the shower now. Atsumu hears the water running. Shouyou is singing something, but it’s too soft for Atsumu to make out the words. Atsumu’s hair drips wet down his back.

He yearns.

In a swath of steam, Shouyou exits the bathroom. His hair has been blow-dried, fluffy like creamsicle-flavoured cotton candy. Atsumu wants to eat it. He smells good out of the shower, a kind of fresh, foresty scent, infused with the mintiness of hotel body wash.

Shouyou’s pajamas that he bought from the store have little trees on them. Sendai is the city of trees, he had explained. Atsumu wears the extra exercise clothes he found stuffed into the hidden recesses of his bag. 

Shouyou plops onto the bed, limbs stretched out like a starfish, then rolls to the side. He pats the left side of the bed. 

“You coming?” He sits up. “You’re not one of the those setters who stay up all night watching game videos, are you?” he accuses.

“Of course not,” Atsumu is affronted. “Sleeping early is how I retain my flawless skin. What the hell kinda setters were you playing with before?”

Shouyou’s grin subsides and he studies Atsumu. Atsumu has not seen sadness enough in Shouyou to know what it looks like.

“Doesn’t matter now,” Shouyou says quietly. “You’re different.”

Atsumu thinks about Osamu, all the times he would decline a few more tosses after practice, the time he made akashiyaki in the kitchen instead of going out on a run with Atsumu, the countless cooking videos in his web browser history. “Yeah,” he agrees. “You’re different.”

He walks over to the bed. _One bed_. He sits down. He realizes the lights are still on and stand up. He takes a long time finding all the lightswitches (they are always hidden in hotel rooms). Shouyou is tugging at the covers where the ends are tucked in beneath the mattress. Atsumu hates that. He joins Shouyou in their tug of war against the mattress. He thinks he puts more effort in than the time he fought with Osamu over a Ken Barbie toy when they were little.

When the covers are fluffed out and they’re both tucked under the heavy cotton, Atsumu thinks that he will never be able to fall asleep (good bye to his three-day streak of good skin).

It’s not too bad though. Atsumu can feel the heat radiating off the body from beside him. Shouyou is burning up, 15 million degrees Celsius. The warmth spreads to his own limbs, seeping into his bones, smouldering embers. Things are alright, Atsumu thinks, as his skin tingles from the hyperawareness. 

_How can he possibly sleep when the sun is right next to him?_

He turns to face Shouyou. Maybe he’s glowing. _I am a sunflower_. His petals reach out, seeking the light. 

\---

Shouyou's thoughts tend to drift in the dark.

He has missed Miyagi. How green everything is. The Sendai City Gymnasium, where he flew for the first time in front of a crowd.

This is his origin. It’s where he experienced determination, despair, and elation so intensely for the first time. Sometime between the years, the excitement turned into mind-numbing fear of being left behind. It’s been washed away by the waves in Brazil long since, but the vestiges still chase after him like shadows.

It’s the fear of not being able to catch up anymore. Not to his opponents, but to his teammates.

In a way, he was never able to catch up to Kageyama. So many thought it was Shouyou leading Kageyama around by the leash. Shouyou never had a finger on him. He wondered if this was what Daedalus felt, watching Icarus fly further and further away into the sky. But Shouyou never worried about Kageyama falling. It was only a matter of whether he could fly as high, if he could catch up.

It was Shouyou who fell, fell down down down where he landed in a desert. At the edge of the desert he met a fox. Who looked at him and said, “You’re good enough. Tame me.” And Shouyou did. The fox would always come back without fail, every day. As he walked beside the fox, Shouyou would like to think he forgot about his rose on a star, but he never did. His rose is so far away. Shouyou realizes, somewhere along the way, he gave up on returning to his rose. The fox was here. Gentle, clever, always by his side.

"Omi's still not talking to me," Atsumu sighs from next to Shouyou. He's laying on his back now, hands behind his head. The light is blue from the translucent curtains. Atsumu looks ethereal. 

"I didn't like what you did today," Shouyou confesses. 

"What?" Atsumu squawks. "My tosses? Or was it the jump serve I missed in the second set? Or-"

"No, when you kissed Sakusa-san."

"Oh-h." Atsumu makes a choked sound. A beat. "It wasn't a kiss."

"I know." Shouyou shifts onto his side. "I didn't like your lips on his." He fixes Atsumu with a challenging gaze.

"Where would you like them, then?" Atsumu's voice is a low, husky whisper. He looks at Shouyou from under his eyelashes with half lidded eyes.

Shouyou moves closer. They are orbiting.

"On mine," he whispers back. Atsumu's facade crumbles. There are unshed tears in his amber eyes. Shouyou sees the naked _longing_ etched in his features.

_How long have you waited?_

Something slots into place. A puzzle piece.

His kiss is an apology and a reassurance.

\---

When Atsumu wakes up, Shouyou is draped over his chest, face partly covered by his arm. He’s warm. Light, white and bright and cornflower yellow, streams through the curtains. Atsumu has never felt more perfect waking up in his life. 

“G’mornin.” Shouyou’s voice is a small, sleepy sound. Atsumu is enamored.

His hands carefully stroke through Shouyou’s hair. It sticks up more than usual in soft orange tufts. Atsumu never wants Shouyou to comb it ever again. 

“‘Tsumu?”

Atsumu hums. “Your heart is beating really fast.” It’s quiet. He can feel it drumming against his skin, fast little rabbit beats. Shouyou shifts, sheets slipping off his legs. He’s laying on his stomach, blinking hard and squinting at the brightness. 

When he looks at Atsumu, his eyes are wide open. There’s marks on his face from where it was pressed on the bed when he slept. They stare at each other for several seconds. 

Shouyou is leaning towards his face, eyes squeezed shut and brows determined. Atsumu momentarily panics. 

He covers his mouth with one hand and uses the other to gently guide Shouyou’s head back.  
“Morning breath,” he explains when Shouyou looks confused at the unreciprocated kiss.

Shouyou blinks at him blankly, and lets out a giggle before he’s snuggling into the crook of Atsumu’s neck. Atsumu pulls him closer and he’s smiling wide and happy before he can even register the emotions.

_What does it feel like to embrace a star?_

\---

Someone throws confetti into the air. 

"He's here! He's here!" 

Bokuto's arm is far above the crowd, snapping pictures of the esteemed figure skater. 

Shouyou spots the gold medallion on Hanyu's chest, glinting in the sunlight. 

He thinks about gold hair that glimmers like wheat fields and foxes that always come back and finds that the thoughts about the roses are gone.

"Aww man!" Bokuto is shouting in that strangled way of his whenever he botches a spike. "His head's covered by the tree!" He shows them the photos.

Atsumu laughs, a light, beautiful sound.

The crowd jostles around them. Shoyou is pushed straight into Atsumu’s chest.

“Look what we have here!” Atsumu sounds delighted as Shoyou wraps his arms around him. He fiercely kisses Shouyou on the temple. 

_Yes._

Shoyou holds him tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> \- it is 2 AM  
> \- i am so happy i managed to insert yuzuru hanyu into this HAHAHA  
> \- sakusa is actually the one who reserved the room for them :) he cares, but will still never forgive atsumu  
> \- i misspelled atsumu's name once and my friend who doesn't watch haikyuu and beta'd for me caught my grievous Mistake and changed it for me  
> \- i also spelled Shouyou wrong (missed the first u) and only realized after Shoyou #78. my other friend pulled through after seeing me cry on twt about changing them all manually and found me a Google docs shortcut god bless  
> \- doesn't really fit the mood of the story but just wanted to rec Like That Sun by DAY6 because i love them and it's somewhat relevant  
> \- friend: imagine waking up and the lovely orange-haired boy you slept with was actually Pennywise


End file.
